


Tourists

by mahalicious



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, actually nvm there's full blown ladynoir, but i mean there's ladynoir but it's not the core, enjoy fellow garbage, i mean i ship them more than i ship myself and death, i wrote this after my trip in paris, it's more of a tourism fanfic, lowkey ladynoir, visit paris with ladybug and chat noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 15:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7940281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahalicious/pseuds/mahalicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrien Agreste has always dreamed of visiting Paris, which has finally been made possible the moment he became Chat Noir.<br/>There's only one big flaw to his plan: The overwhelming number of tourists.</p><p>But what happens when Ladybug takes the lead and decides to show him the real Paris?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tourists

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1yearofMiraculous](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=1yearofMiraculous).



> I was in Paris 2 weeks ago and though the trip was amazing, I was definitely annoyed by the fact that wherever I'd go, the place would just... Lack "parisianity"? So a friend of mine took me to the place I'm about to describe in the oneshot, said "Welcome to the real Paris. Flesh and bones!" and the typicality of it all just pushed me to write this!  
> I constantly notice that many people fail to realise that Paris is a major character in Miraculous Ladybug, and tend to just throw it in there as a place detail. My trip there made me realise that Paris truly had a soul, quite breathed through the walls actually, and I wanted to let this appear in this story, so yes, it's a Ladynoir oneshot, what you've come to find, but do keep in mind that the true protagonist of this story is no one but Paris.  
> Without further ado, here is my own contribution to #1yearofMiraculous !

_Tourists_.

Now Adrien had barely gone out of his house before he became Chat Noir, so you _could_ technically consider him a tourist.

For instance, he had never seen the Eiffel Tower from another angle but from his living room’s bay window. Or visited Montmartre, the Tuileries garden, even the Louvre.

All those places that were barely a few metro stations from his house.

Not that he’d ever seen a metro station before.

At that point, the threadbare seats of a crowded, filthy metro train seemed much more comfortable than the leather seats of whatever car he was being shoved in into that day.

He’d only ever known Paris from pictures he shamelessly printed for his own rêverie, and the history lessons that Nathalie provided three times a week.

But now that he was finally free to run wherever he wanted, he’d been disappointed to find that Paris was not the poetic place he had wished for it to be. At least not anymore.

There was not a day, not an hour, not a minute devoid of him stumbling on a squealing group of tourists. And although the sight had fascinated him at first, and the unique mix of cultures living together had enthralled him in a way that made him truly feel that instead of visiting Paris, he was visiting the whole world… now he could barely suppress a sigh at pretty much everything.

Swarming at the feet of the Arc de Triomphe, streaming like an endless river down the Champs Elysées. Even the sight of the Tuileries in October was actually painful, and a Parisian only knew how huge the park was.

Billions of heads were filling every spot of Paris in the most routine-like way.

_Everywhere._

“Now kitty, what earns me this painful sigh from you? Your famed pick-up lines didn’t catch you any mice?”

Chat lazily turned from the sight of a crowded Sacré Coeur square to look at his crime-fighter partner.

It was an unusually dull day in Paris. The kind met by heavied clouds that refused to rain despite the sticky heat and pollution. It was a weather neither summer or autumn.

The open corridor that ran around the central dome of the basilica where they hid was cold, though not enough to make Chat shiver. It was also high, just enough to let a faint breeze run against his damp skin.

Despite the suffocating heat, and the gray of the sky, visitors scurried up the stairs and into Mont Cenis Street, eager to watch the sunset from the famed Sacré Coeur Basilica.

The view itself from the basilica was a gift to be reckoned with.

It _was_ beautiful, what with the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower cutting through the sky, and the roofs he knew by heart, with their irregular chimneys that seemed to challenge the Tower into a vain height contest.

It was the most beautiful at night, with the City of Light stretching before Adrien’s very eyes and a thousand of star-like lights dotting the buildings and the monuments.

But even the most hidden alcove of the cathedral couldn’t erase the frustration he’d been feeling growing deep inside of him knowing thousands of people were seeing Paris the exact same way he did.

Crossing his arms, Chat let his eyes rest on his partner.

He didn’t know when she had moved from her own window to stand behind him, back pressed against the stone wall as she watched him with twinkling blue eyes. Her fiery outfit stood out in the dim light of the dome, impossible to miss, and yet. Had she been observing him for a while? For a second? He couldn’t quite get himself to ask.

“Are you doubting my charms, my Lady?” He inquired finally, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I'm pretty sure they'd have to exist in the first place for me to doubt them.”

It tore a small laugh from Chat, and he felt himself relax. But before him, the petite girl tensed and her playful smirk faded, replaced by a thin concerned line.

“More seriously though,” she insisted. “You’ve been sighing so much lately that I constantly have to keep myself from taking you to the nearest hospital. What’s wrong, Chat?”

He glanced back at the square, but without fully turning, suddenly silent. The sun was gone now, leaving in its trail a myriad of reds and oranges to paint the cloudy sky. The chatter below was getting lost in the familiar melody of violins and accordions in what all touristic guides would describe as the voice of Paris, and somewhere in the distance Chat could hear the distinct horn of cars driving down the Rocheouart Boulevard.

The dome was getting colder, maybe it was finally going to rain?

“I don’t like tourists,” he finally said, but it came out so low he actually stopped to wonder if Ladybug had actually heard him.

He felt her move behind him to climb on the windowsill and let her feet dangle into the void before she answered.

“I was bracing myself for just about anything,” she teased. “But I have to say that wasn’t exactly the answer I was expecting.”

Chat puffed. “Well what can I say, I am unexpected.”

“Left slash, dodge and dash?”

“One doesn’t change winning combos, okay?”

He could hear the laughter in her voice even as she went back to the topic at hand, and it made his smile last a little longer.

“So you don’t like tourists. That is pretty surprising considering you live in the most visited city in the world.”

Chat ran a hand through his hair. “It’s pretty weird, I know...” he paused for a second, searching the right words for what he hadn’t been able to express for weeks. “I feel like wherever there are tourists, it’s not really Paris? There are touristic places in Paris, but none of them are exactly… Paris.”

He sighed and pointed his chin towards the buzzing crowd below. He wasn’t entirely convinced by his explanation.

“I don’t hear Edith Piaf singing when I walk in Pigalle,” he tried again. “See Charles de Gaulle walking down the Champs Élysées, or smell the charcoal and the sugar on the Place du Tertre? I mean… What is Paris exactly? What about it that makes it so special that people from all over the world pay thousands to come here?”

Ladybug didn’t answer, and the silence stretched between the two teens. It could’ve been uncomfortable hadn’t the wind whistled in Chat’s ears.

He didn’t know if he expected an answer from Ladybug, but he figured he didn’t enough to feel bothered by the silence.

Or maybe he was just too lost in his thoughts to pay much attention to the sting in his heart at his Lady’s lack of response.

He decided to brush it off when the basilica’s bell rang

It filled the whole dome they were standing in, vibrating in their bones, like a reminder that confession time was over. That duties were the priority.

Ladybug and Chat’s eyes met at the same time, but just as the red-clad heroin opened her mouth to speak, the catboy straightened his back.

“We should get going,” he said, grinning already. “Our Lady of Light awaits our dutiful patrols.”

Ladybug hesitated for a second, but just before Chat’s smile faltered, she smiled back. “Yeah, we should.”

By the time they reached the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, the night was dark and most lights were out, except for the streetlights. Somewhere along the way, the Eiffel Tower had stopped shining, which meant it was past midnight, but that must have been hours ago now.

The roof tiles glistened from the humidity even though it hadn’t rained yet, and while it was a beautiful addition to the glimmering Paris, now the only indication of how damp the air felt was the weird crunching noise of their steps against the wet gravel of the rooftops.

Adrien loved Paris at night.

Though it was much calmer than most cities he’d ever visited, like New York or Barcelona, it held a special atmosphere at night. One could quite forget they were in one of the biggest cities in the world, especially when the whole capital would stop shimmering and go to sleep.

The starry city would darken slowly, spot by spot, and the sky would finally show the stars that couldn’t dare compete with Paris while it beamed.

Paris was silent at night.

Save for the chatter that long lasted in places like the Quartier Latin or the Boulevard Voltaire, the only sound that echoed in the silent Ville Lumière was the laughter of two teenagers who raced on the rooftops, leaped, danced, flew away.

On nights like these, it was easy to forget that the morning was going to bring school and work and noise and stress. It was easy to lie down on your back and stare at the starry sky that seemed endless, eternal, almost miraculous.

They had been patrolling for the best part of the night now, and it was only a matter of time before the sky broke into a thousand shades of pinks and purples. The temperature had drastically dropped during the last hour and even through his suit, Chat could feel the biting cold snake its way to his bones.

“Alright _chaton_ ,” Ladybug suddenly turned to him. “I think Paris’s safe for tonight.”

“Aw, tired already, Bugaboo?” He asked with a smirk, although a small part of him was actually relieved the patrol was coming to an end.

“Don’t I need my beauty sleep if I want to keep swaying your kitty heart.”

Chat laughed and sat down on the parapet to look down at his red-clad partner.

Clearing his throat, he took on his best baritone voice. “What lies behind you and what lies in front of you, pales in _compawrison_ to what lies inside of you, my Lady.”

Ladybug puffed. “You do know Emerson would have been horrified by the catastrophic pun you just squeezed in there.”

She placed her hands on her hips in an outraged fashion, and he laughed. “I’m actually pretty convinced he’d have saluted the initiative.”

A sudden gust of wind blew between them, and the dust that accompanied it tore a cough from Ladybug. She wove her hand in front of her face. “Well you know what? I really wish your puns could offend the sky or something, so that it would rain.”

“The sky is actually my number 1 fan. 10 points for Ravenclaw.”

“Did you choose Ravenclaw because you can pun its name or because the sky is blue? Wait, don’t tell me. Both?”

Chat’s only answer was the cheshire grin he pulled.

This time, Ladybug actually giggled, though she tried to stifle it by biting on her index. It was more of an automatism than an actual desire to suppress her glee, as Chat knew that she would soon burst into laughter.

And she did, her voice echoing in the silence of the city like a million of bells and chimes.

He liked to make her laugh.

“I suppose that makes me a Hufflepuff in that case,” she managed to breathe between two cackles.

Chat stared at her with eyes wide as saucers. “You hand me your yoyo this instant and jump off the roof.”

“Oh come on, for all the puns I get to hear on a daily basis, you’re one to talk, Chat!”

“Go away.”

She laughed again, and he couldn’t help joining her as well until she stepped towards the edge of the roof and called out for him.

“Alright, I’ve got a place I need to show you.”

Chat’s fake ears perked, and he tilted his head in confusion. “Now?”

She smirked. “Actually, I’m hoping on reaching it for dawn. Don’t trip on your way.”

And she launched her yoyo.

Chat didn’t need further explanation as he pushed himself back on his feet and lept after his Lady.

They crossed the rooftops of the capital, laughter filling the empty streets, waking a few lights in their trail. Once or twice, Chat would land on a balcony and meet the mesmerised eyes of a woken child. More often than not, he was joined by an upside down Ladybug who would playfully wink at them before disappearing again into the Parisian maze.

Chat soon stopped recognising the area she was leading him through.

The roofs were still made of the typical grey tiles, but the walls were now painted in all different colours and tags. It was hard to find a single plain wall, with all kinds of symbols carved and scribbled here and there. The sight felt strange, foreign to Chat as he now followed Ladybug through paved alleys she seemed to know by heart. It was an ugly, filthy Paris that clashed with the beautiful neighbourhoods he had grown used to, but even in its emptiness, it felt much more alive than the hollow Champ de Mars. It reeked of urine and leftover pot, but as they reached a larger street - _Rue de Belleville,_ he read- the smell dissipated to let place to the distinct smell of trees and dew.

“Are you taking me to the Bois de Vincennes?” he asked, lost.

Ladybug laughed softly. “Not even close.”

Chat noticed they were going up one of the numerous hillocks of Paris, because the street was quickly turning into a slope, and he decided that it couldn’t be Montmartre because he knew the area well enough to recognise it. The artery was lined with closed restaurants and bistros. Even turned off, he could still read some of the names - _Aux Folies, Le Relais de Belleville_ -, decorated in the old-fashioned way of Parisian cafés. Hand painted tables and windows.

“They’re real ones, you know,” Ladybug said, tearing Chat from his thoughts. “The restaurants. As authentic as you can find in Paris.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Edith Piaf might or might not have lived in this street.” Chat’s silence was such an obvious indication of his shock, that it was an amused Ladybug who turned to him, arms spread as if she could embrace the whole scenery around them. “I’m serious. Welcome to the Vieux Paris! Far from the eyes and knowledge of tourists. Hidden behind its tags and working-class people. These stones are century old and history-heavy.” She illustrated her point by bumping the side of her fisted hand against one of the tagged walls. And Chat’s eyes ran up the surface of it, finally recognising the typical architecture of the black and white pictures that hung in his room. He saw the children and the banter of a Zola, heard the Bohème of a Charles Aznavour, smelled the coffee and bock of a Guy de Maupassant novel, and it suddenly felt like he could quite well hear and feel Paris breath beneath and through every single wall.

He turned to the pig-tailed girl who stood next to him, and his heart beat faster at the obvious pride that made her eyes shine in the fading darkness.

_What is Paris exactly?_

Blue met green for a second before Ladybug’s gaze trailed past Chat, eyes widening when she spotted something in the distance.

“Just in time,” she said excitedly and grabbed his hand before he could turn around to see what she was referring to. Instantly, he was pulled towards the roof again, firmly held by his partner who had once again launched her yoyo.

The sky had taken lighter shades of blue, and Chat realised that dawn was behind them as he followed Ladybug on what seemed to be the final line of this blind race.

And it was.

The wind blew stronger in this part of the hillock, making Chat’s hair fly in all directions as they reached a small covered terrace. It wasn’t luxurious, with its curved plexiglas roof that protected it from occasional bad weather, but it had… Something that captivated Adrien. An authenticity that kept him from looking away.

The smell of trees was even stronger here, and he noticed the whole place was surrounded by trees.

Several columns carried the roof, painted in the funniest of way. Children and adults seemed to slip into portals that made halves of them appear in different columns, and Chat could make out a brother on his sister’s shoulders, head deep in the portal he explored, smile at the businessman who lost his briefcase through the portal and went after it.

Ladybug jumped down the building they were standing on, and Chat followed her, curious to explore this strange place. A closer inspection made him realise that the characters depicted on the columns were of all kinds of ethnicities: Africans, Asians, Arabs, Occidentals… None had been left out. All had their right to exist on the terrace.

The whole place was an actual painting. Wings of orange and blue and yellow spread on the lowest walls, chalk drawings covered the paving stones, even the elaborated engraving of a sea-horse little girl found its way in the middle of it all.

And at the far end of the terrace, ceramic trees escalated the farthest columns, ivy-like and colourful, oh so colourful. Chat stepped closer, and noted with awe that each leaf was made out of junk, and little scattered statuettes and tiles. He raised his hand towards the china figure of a cat playing with a ladybug and carefully touched its smooth surface.

“ _Everywhere in the heart of the season, that skin of ours that freezes gives us like an idea._ ”

He turned to find Ladybug standing right next to him again. Her gaze was on something on the column as she spoke, and, though puzzled at first, Chat eventually noticed that she was reading the scribbled words on one of the white leaves.

A smile cracked his face when he spotted another one. “This one seems to be for you, my Lady. _Upside down or not, do we see the same?_ ”

“Accurate.” She laughed softly and walked past him to read a smaller official plate, lost in the middle of the leaves. “ _This terrace was built by the inhabitants of the Belleville area with the support of the Paris Townhall._ Each drawing, each carving in here, they’re the expression of Paris itself on its own walls… Remember the tags in the streets? I like to think that it doesn’t matter what you draw or write so long as you leave a trace in a world where everything goes by too fast to be remembered at all.”

“ _You know, I sometimes think, how is anyone ever gonna come up with a book, or a painting, or a symphony, or a sculpture that can compete with a great city. You can’t. Because you look around and every street, every boulevard, is its own special art form and when you think that in the cold, violent, meaningless universe that Paris exists..._ ”

“Aragon?”

Chat smiled. “Owen Wilson. I always wanted to recite this quote out loud to impress cute girls.”

He felt something hit him in the back of his head and it tore a laugh from him.

“And here I thought you looked cool for a second,” Ladybug sighed.

“Hey at least it worked!”

The red-clad girl rolled her eyes at him, barely suppressing her smile as she tapped his shoulder. “Here, we’re going to climb this, I want you to see the view.”

And he followed her up the plexiglas roof, where dead leaves and dust gathered. She sat on the edge almost immediately, and beckoned to Chat to join her. But as he lifted himself up, his gaze landed on the scenery that stretched endlessly before him and he froze.

There was a park below, going as far as the eye could see, and he could hear the murmur of the fountain that ran down the whole length of the park. There were stairs everywhere, leading down and down the hillock through the leaves and the grass, and when Chat looked past the trees… There she was.

Paris in all its glory and magic.

The horizon was painted in pink and periwinkle, dotted with traces of yellow and orange and sunrays that refused to follow the sun in its slow wake. They exploded in shades of reds and whites as soon as they collided with the stubborn night who, selfishly, reluctantly, begged for one more minute in Paris’ arms.

It was a sight Chat struggled to describe, as it was a story words could never convey. A story for hearts that knew no human language.

Of a dawn and dusk that fought as far as history could go for the City of Love.

With the day came the clouds, and though the Parisian skyline was slowly emerging from the crepuscule, its silhouette was blurred by the morning fog. The Montparnasse skyscraper stood tall in the distance, but its strict lines paled before the curved beauty of the Eiffel Tower, far in the right. Even further, Chat could guess the shy figure of the Opera, and here and there the cranes of one two many building sites glistened in the budding light.

The morning dew dampened his hair and glittered on his suit, heavy with the smell of fresh earth and air. It smelled of that, and fresh bread.

And although Paris was still asleep, he could hear the twitter of the birds around them, and the wind in the leaves.

It was a flawed view, Adrien deemed, because the houses weren’t all haussmanian from this angle. Some buildings were plain, others straight out ugly, and the mixture made the sight uneven. But it was Paris as it had accepted to show itself, scarred and imperfect, far from what the tourists expected, and yet close enough to embrace centuries of history and claim them as its own too.

After all what couldn’t he see from here that he hadn’t hours ago from Montmartre? The Eiffel Tower? The Défense district?

It was vulnerability that made Belleville so extraordinary. Paris’ sincerity.

And just as he thought so, like the sky only ever waited for him to reach that conclusion, it started to rain.

It was a soft drizzle against his skin, fresh and gentle. Much welcome after the dryness of the day, and the sprint it had taken him to come here. Beside him, Ladybug giggled and when his eyes fell upon her, he felt his heart skip a beat.

She was beautiful.

Laughing in the rain she was, rosy cheeks and brilliant blue eyes in the daybreak. She had thrown her head back to let the raindrops trickle down her face and into her opened mouth, tongue slightly out as she tried to catch the water. The sky cast a strange pattern of blue and orange on her skin, making her glow in such a way that it suddenly felt for Chat like he was sitting by the embodiment of Paris itself, cherished by both dusk and dawn.

And she was.

Strong and fiery Ladybug, who had only ever showed once that even she could be weak. To him who had vowed to love whoever was behind the mask.

The way Paris hid its scars behind tags and monuments, Ladybug hid her flaws behind her mask too, and refused to reveal herself to anyone, even him.

She was Paris.

She turned, and their eyes met.

Time seemed to freeze at that exact moment, and if not for the rain that relentlessly fell down on him, Chat would have believed it had.

There was something about him that struck Ladybug, something she wasn’t used to but which felt familiar in the most unsettling of ways. She hadn’t realised how she had instinctively caught her breath the moment their eyes had locked, too entranced by the vivid green of his eyes.

They had something vulnerable in them, innocent as they watched her. It wasn’t a sight she'd seen very often on Chat, but now, more than anytime, the strength of it was gluing her on the spot.

He looked at her like he was seeing someone entirely different, someone she didn’t really dare compare to. Maybe it was awe she recognised in his gaze, and she decided it was because of the scenery. But where was the gratitude?

His bangs fell on his eyes in a dripping mess, trickling with rain, and she had to keep herself from brushing them aside. Suddenly, she imagined how soft his hair must feel and her heart beat faster.

She didn’t know what was up with Chat, but there was something about him in that moment that enthralled her entirely and intrigued her. She felt herself reach for his cheek, where a tear-like drop had settled, and when the tip of her fingers touched his face, Chat inhaled deeply.

He didn’t move.

It somewhat encouraged her and she allowed herself to take a shaky breath, pressing her fingers further down his cheek. She had never really observed him from this close a distance, although she could have drawn his face’s every line on command. The proximity was different, almost dream-like as she explored every patch of skin that his masked face could offer. It made her careful and she barely dared to press more than the tip of her fingers against his features.

She felt the raindrop disappear under her thumb when she lowered her hand to his jaw. Then the soft down of his hair, and the chiseling of his features before she wandered to his neck where his pulse, erratic, beat. He shuddered and her eyes were on his again, distraught blue searching for confirmation in his gaze.

His lips curved slightly, indicating that it was alright for her to resume her exploration, and she did, deafened by her own heartbeat. Her fingers grazed his jaw again and ran across the length of his mask, eager to learn each hollow, each curve, each bone, mindless of the rain that made his skin glisten and sleek under her touch. She pushed his bangs away, exhaling when her cold fingers rested on his flushed forehead, and the sight of how defenseless he looked with his hair up made her heart swell in the most unfamiliar way.

Her stomach twisted and she pulled her hand back as if the boy before her was made of white-hot iron, terrified by the way her own body was reacting.

His hand found hers almost immediately, caught it in mid-air, and when she looked up at him, she saw the same fear in his eyes, though for completely different reasons.

“Don’t…”

His voice sounded husky, weak, barely louder than a sigh, but it made her stop. His hand was cold around hers, and she could feel the weight of each raindrop as it crashed against her skin, even colder. She peered into those willow green eyes, wide-eyed, and her chest felt warm though.

She hadn’t planned it that way.

The titter of the rain against the plastic roof was deafening, but not quite as much as the roar of her own heart as she watched Chat pull her hand back to his face, slowly, carefully. He pressed her palm against his cheek, and traced down his own features until her fingers rested on his lips.

She had already felt his lips against her hand, when he would press a feather-like, hurried kiss on her knuckles right before she left. His trademark hand kiss.

But the way he kissed her fingers now felt entirely different, almost sacred. It was a small kiss, a hesitant push of his lips against the tip of her fingers that was just enough to make her face flush and her heart spiral in her chest. And it was strange, because it was Chat who stood in front of her. Her partner, her best friend, the boy she’d trust with her life anytime of the day, not…

She growled and pushed him backwards, turning her blushing face away from him.

“You’re a hopeless charmer, Chat,” she grunted, more weakly than she’d intended.

The addressed party didn’t answer immediately, still dazed by the strange trance they had both witnessed. It was like emerging from the deep water and into the sun after the silence of the abyss. He could gradually hear the waves crashing on the shore and the birds above him cry.

He shook his head, unable to explain or comprehend what had exactly happened, the only trace of it ever existing being the lingering warmth in his chest. Ladybug had her head firmly turned the other way, facing the painted walls of the building they had been standing on moments ago.

It took him a while to remember what it felt like to talk.

“I… Of course I am.”

He laughed nervously, and bit the inside of his cheek. _Smooth, Adrien, smooth._

She, on her part, remained silent, and Chat took a deep breath in a blind attempt to tidy his thoughts. His eyes fell again on the Parisian scenery in front of them.

The fog had dissipated now because of the rain, and most of the night had been washed away, though the sky still harboured its milky dawn shades. It was only a matter of time before the day claimed the city as his own, and slowly, Chat felt himself relax.

He cleared his throat. “Thank you for showing me this, Ladybug.”

Ladybug. Not my Lady, or Bugaboo, or whatever nickname he usually came up with.

Ladybug shoved her head deeper in her shoulders and brought her legs to her.

“It’s okay,” she muttered. “I just… I didn’t like the sight of you being so disappointed in Paris.”

He chuckled. “My Lady, you drop my disappointment level to 0 just by existing in our fair city. So quite honestly, I don’t see what disappointment you’re talking about.”

It made her smile, and she playfully bumped his shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”

He was about to answer when she let her head rest on his shoulder, and whatever word he had planned to say died on his tongue.

It felt right to sit there with her.

It felt right to watch their city in the daybreak, when it could theirs and only theirs to own.

And in that moment, Adrien wouldn’t have traded places with anyone for anything.

He felt Ladybug’s small hand cover his own, and when his heart resumed its normal pacing, he smiled, hooking his pinky finger with hers.

Her finger crooked back, and he just _knew_.

The way children hooked pinkies to make promises, he knew he and Ladybug had just made an unbreakable promise.

That to protect the city that unreeled before them, every single crack and street and hole and inhabitant of it.

For the Paris that stood before them was perfectly flawed, and it was that perfection that made it what it was.

_Paris._

And it felt right.

**Author's Note:**

> Tada! I have a lot of people to thank for this oneshot.  
> First, shishitsunari for being so excited about the whole thing that I myself felt too excited to write all of this xD (You have to thank her for the ladynoir scene too because I was going for a full-blown platonic thing until she stopped me and threatened my life for actual LadyNoir)  
> Then, re-unknown for having my back in moments I was so ready to die (this oneshot is written with my blood, guys)  
> polkadotsdesign for just squealing a looooot and never hesitating to read every single piece of that draft.
> 
> And finally, arouria, my beta-reader, because even though she was very busy, she still agreed to beta this piece of work and I just feel more than lucky to have her! Thank you, Ria.
> 
> I also wanted to add that literally everything I described in here is legit, based on research pictures I took there directly. You can include to the research the little quotes, and the china cat figure (though I have to admit it was not a ladybug with it, but a bird)  
> I have a funny anecdote by the way. There were a couple of ceramics that featured a ladybug, and though I wanted to add it, I just didn't want the whole thing to be too heavy.  
> I encourage you to check up the spot I described, it's the Parc de Belleville (add vue if you want the view which is honestly gorgeous and worth it)  
> Lastly, I want to thank the wonderful people of Belleville for making such a beautiful place and being so creative.


End file.
